courtesy of Pintrest
courtesy of Pintrest
I couldn’t help but smile at the crumpled piece of paper resting in my hand. The words were brief but held so much meaning. Five short words, and a question mark.
I read the note once more, and was reminded of my first love. He was older, and I was completely smitten. A similar note was received, promised and broken.
Purple crayon read “Pleez will you marry me?”
I quickly scanned the room in an attempt to find the writer or receiver of this note. Defeated, I left the library with ‘love’ in my bag.
Most of us have had that one crazy friend. The one who can read the mischief on your face, and give you the little push needed to start a new adventure. She was emotional, beautiful, confident, extroverted, and encouraged me to embrace my weird. We were inseparable. I recall hours talking about fictional characters as if they went to school with us, enjoying crazy nights out supporting local bands, and those sleep overs staying up talking about boys. No one knew me like she knew me.
Then one day, I told her I was pregnant. That was the day I lost my best friend. Out of all of my friends, she was supposed to be the most supportive and encouraging, but she wasn’t there for me like I hoped she would be. Everyone else whom I thought would judge me for being a mother at 20 were amazing. They asked questions, they asked how I was feeling, they told me everything will be okay. I was scared, and my best friend wasn’t there to tell me that this was a new adventure, and to embrace it.
She was still there in the shadows, politely making small talk, and offering me her friendship from afar. I would hear of her wild nights out with her new friends, supporting local bands and meeting new boys. My tales of nights spent at home with my partner, feasting and watching cheesy films just did not compare… My nights were perfect.
I realised that I had a new best friend. Someone I could lounge around the house with, play fight with, talk about anything with, plan a future with. Out of love, we created a tiny human being, and that is a special bond. As my little girl grows into a young lady, I am going to encourage her to embrace her weird, teach her to be adventurous and support her no matter what.
We may not be close friends now, but still we see each other every now and then. I will always cherish the adventures we had, and appreciate the times she made me feel ‘normal’.
I am sure, that like most others, I found this to be an incredibly challenging task. So challenging that I had hit a brick wall when trying to think of the most important songs in my life, how can you only pick three? Instead, I will have to tweak this challenge slightly and discuss why I enjoy certain songs more than others.
I guess you could say that I am a bit of a dreamer. A day dreamer. More often than not, when I listen to music, it is background noise, however; when I am in a certain mood, certain songs create images and scenes in my mind. I cannot help but create characters and places where I feel the music would completely fit the mood and theme. In fact, when I am writing, a lot of my work is inspired by music I was listening to and was happy with where my imagination took me at the time. I even create play lists for each of my characters to help me develop their personalities and feelings during certain moments.
Does anyone else do this?
As an example, when I listen to The Neighborhood’s – Sweater Weather, this is what comes to mind:
A large city bathed in the light of the autumn sun, with grey clouds forming above skyscrapers, creating sun showers. Yellow cabs slowly moving through the traffic, and people scattering to find shelter among the concrete jungle. Though, somewhere in this big city, two young lovers are sitting in a small studio apartment enjoying the warmth its radiator and the loud bass of the song reverberating through the apartment.
“These hearts adore
Everyone the other beats hardest for
Inside this place is warm
Outside it starts to pour
‘Cause it’s too cold
For you here and now
So let me hold
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater”
For some strange reason, I always imagine a knitted maroon sweater. Every time!
What comes to your mind when a certain song grabs your attention?
Crisp white sheets embrace me as I wake to the morning light seeping through the curtains. The smell of salt and the sound of the ocean crashing into the nearby cliffs comforts me as I search for the energy to rise up. After long minutes of staring at the ceiling and enjoying the warmth of my bed, I finally found the strength to leave the most comfortable place in the world, and face the new day.
I was drawn to the large bay window which overwhelmed the room, and drew the pale blue curtains which now outlined the dark timber frame. I inhaled a small breath as I welcomed the morning light and bathed in its warmth. On the other side of the glass were endless fields of green which eventually greeted the blue cloudless sky above. Faint grey lines of old stone walls were visible here and there, separating one farmers field from another.
Once dressed, I make my way into the small country kitchen at the back of my small cottage. The white kitchen cupboards creaked as I opened them, another small comfort my little home provided me with. While I wait for my kettle to boil, I glance out of kitchen window and farewell the early morning boats heading out from the shore below, as they begin their day of work, and the view of the multi-coloured buildings in the small coastline town was picture perfect from where I was standing.
… One of my dreams is to live in a cottage in a small town in the south of Ireland, surrounded by fields and close to the ocean.
Through my front window, tiny flecks of light are peeking through the spaces between the leaves and making patterns on my walls. Golden shapes dancing and flickering against the plain white surface. As I reach out to the warmth of the light, it begins to disappear as shadows creep and now linger at my window. I can feel the chill haunting the glass panes as I stand before the window, trying to find the light that cheerfully played before me only moments ago.
The sky is grey, and everything outside is still. In one small moment, I caught the change of the seasons. The golden light which once reflected off of the auburn leaves dancing in the wind, have been replaced with a dim grey shadow, weighing down the dark leaves. As I crossed my arms and hugged myself for warmth I heard a large rumble through the sky. The noise was so majestic that it reverberated through my walls and rattled my belongings. It was a greeting from winter itself, making his presence clear, and stating his intentions.
Currently I am nurturing an obsession. Hour, by hour, constantly feeding it and giving it pieces of me. It started as curiosity, then interest… and out of nowhere it sparked a mass of emotions that I was completely unprepared for. I soon offered this witchcraft energy that I did not have to give, sleepless nights condemned my body as my need for knowledge became all consuming.
Now, I find myself feeling vulnerable. I was lured in and made to believe in something that wasn’t real. The one moment that has replayed in my mind over and over for days, causing hate and disbelief. All to be quashed in a single moment and proven to be untrue.
Tarynn Fisher, you have cast a spell on me. The ‘Love Me with Lies’ series has completely rattled me, and I still have half of the final book to read. I almost don’t want to finish it, for fear of abandonment. I don’t want to let these characters go, I want to continue being part of their lives and riding the roller coaster you specially made for them. I fear I won’t get my happy ending and have to settle for their contentment, which will only lead to my opening of the box labeled ‘what if?’.
I just need my head to make sense again.
Ms. Fisher, your mind is amazing, your words are impeccable, and your sense of morality is questionable. I think I have fallen in ‘like’ with you.
I highly recommend to those of you who read; YA, NA, romance, anti-romance, or just enjoy reading, to look into the ‘Love Me with Lies’ series.